


Why is half of me always someplace close to you?

by teaspoonofdoom



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Death, Baby Batman is somewhere, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Drunken Flirting, Flower Symbolism that may or may not be accurate, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, I was aiming for bittersweetness but half way through it became this, Injury, M/M, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, Smoking, Sock Garters, doesn't end very well, kind of, not graphic, season 4 Ivy and Oswald never turned sour, stubble marks of passing time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspoonofdoom/pseuds/teaspoonofdoom
Summary: Around 6 years post 3b/4a Edward slowly but surely finds his way back into Oswald's life. Time heals but it doesn't erase the past.---Oswald's chewing on a dark chocolate waffle when he picks up the morning paper out of inspidity. The Riddler's most recent scheme is front page. Edward's Cheshire smile prods him in all of the wrong places.





	Why is half of me always someplace close to you?

**Author's Note:**

> I started this nearly a month ago in the middle of the night. So far I haven't worked this much on a single piece but I loved every moment of it. Hopefully you'd enjoy the final product!
> 
> Any knid of feedback is more than welcome.
> 
> Tittle by 'All I Need' by Foxes
> 
> Disclaimer: There is a spoiled riddle in this, read at your own risk.

 

 

They are gravitating towards one another.

Oswald's chewing on a dark chocolate waffle when he picks up the morning paper out of inspidity. The Riddler's most recent scheme is front page. Edward's Cheshire smile prods him in all of the wrong places.

And fuck karma, fate is the bitch.

Next week a penguin dies in Gotham City Zoo. Oswald finds its frozen corpse in his office with a green ribbon around it. He sees his men pin Ed to the ground from the window. Failed escape.

"Was that a threat, Riddler?" He chuckles and leans on his cane. Ed knows there's a blade in it. He laughs, too. Shakes his head.

Oswald waits uncharacteristically patient for him to say something.

"Do you know penguins in captivity live longer than penguins in the wild?"

Oswald rolls his eyes and waves his hand at the goons. Doesn't watch as they force Ed out of his property. Doesn't listen to his maniacal laughter.

He just happens to need some help from Edward's current allies a few months down the line. And they have to keep it civil. Firstly, because they are professionals and because time is money. And secondly, because if they fight they give the others chance to smell blood in the water. Which is on it's own too risky and not worth it.

So Oswald takes any drink Ed offers him without hesitation, without cautiousness. Not that he fears poison anyway, rotten on the inside already. That's Edward's doing, too.

Oswald grows to despite most types of cocktails.

Once the thing flops like it always does, Oswald doesn't remember the details. Only that The Bat had no problem taking on them all and that Edward smiled very wide when he finished making a riddle.

Two important things to remember:

  1. Don't underestimate the Dark Knight and his righteous wrath.
  2. Don't get distracted by soft eyes and bright smiles (or bright eyes and soft smiles, for that matter); men die for giving the Riddler an answer he doesn't want to hear.



("Do you still love me?")

They start to dine together. Sometimes they go to restaurants. The ones with wooden chairs that creak and tiny tables under which it's nearly impossible to fit two sets of legs. Oswald's sure Ed does it on purpose. Accidently uses Oswald's napkin. Steals bits from his plate and asks if he can have a taste around a mouthful of it. His smile turns mean as he puts two too many ice cubs in Oswald's drink.

("Riddle me this-"

"If it's the iced tea one, I already know it. The poison is in the ice. The person who drinks slower, lets it melt and dies."

Ed laughs but adds another two ice cubs to Oswald's water.)

Half the time his knee is pocking at the inside of Oswald's thigh. Pressing long enough to leave a slightly red mark with it's shape for a while. (Oswald excused himself to the bathroom one of the first times and noticed it. It's always gone by the time he gets back home.) The other half of the time he digs his heel at Oswald's foot. Smashing his toes and ruining his shoes. Oswald's not sure whether it's merciful or more cruel he always does it to his good leg.

On the way out of the restaurant Edward offers him a croocked smile and his elbow. Oswald digs his nails in linen. July's sun blinds him.

Other times they dine at the mansion. Oswald makes sure the table is always set differently than that other evening when he was about to confess. To spill his guts for Ed willingly, to cut himself open and offer the space between his lungs, to let his tongue get the best of him, roam the room and fill it with promises. No fear. He used to be so sure of Ed. Of _them_.

It was anything but ever since then. He runs over the scar with tentative fingers, worries the long healed wound might just open and invite Ed in instead. Or that his heart has dried off and disappeared. Got frozen and then thawed out not quite the same. He holds his tongue, bites it more often than not. God knows he has told Edward all about the nature of his feeling already. The riddle-loving fuck heard him the first time.

He isn't afraid Ed's going to kill him with his butter knife but Olga refuses to leave any sharp objects near him for more than a minute. Serves them soup and sliced bread. Pork pelmeni. Beef shashlik. All with extra onion.

Tries to talk Oswald into quiting alcohol in front of Edward and switches to Russian to say wine glasses can be dangerous. Oswald pretends not to understand her and pours another one. (He knows she doesn't care about him. Being associated with the then-dead King and unemployed concerns her.) Slams his glass into Ed's and drinks for his health. Some of the liquid spills over the rim of the glass and lands on his sleeve. He reaches for the salt, aware of the cruel smile Edward hides behind the rim of his own. Oswald knows he can't get rid of the stain. Shakes the salt untill the shaker's empty anyway. Olga brings them chokladbolls rolled in shredded coconut for dessert. Ed hates coconut.

Edward picks up on it on the third night in a row. As Olga comes to gather their bowls, he takes a hold on his spoon and slams it into Oswald's hand, resting on the table. It breaks the skin below the second knuckle. Ring finger. Edward takes out his handcheif (lilac brocade, _Did he plan this?_ ) and throws it in the air. It lands over Oswald's hand and he presses it in. Glares at Olga stunded at the door but shares a gentler look with Ed, leaning at his chair, blooded spoon in his mouth, fingers tapping impatiently on the table.

"I suppose now we can start eating with forks again. I've been dying for Caesar salad. And meat pie. And tiramisu cake." He lists to Olga and winks at Oswald.

On an extremely long and tiring day Oswald cancels their plans. Edward turns up at the mansion just as he is heading to bed.

"Ugh, I told them not to let anybody in!" 

Edward is leaning on the doorframe, kicking off his distasteful shoes. His tie, the one with little question marks, is untied. One end of it tucked in his slacks.

"They thought you forgot to tell them to expect me. It was somewhat- cute." He's drunk. Looking for the right word and settling for cute. Definitely drunk.

"I don't pay them to be cute." Oswald ties his night robe tighter as his _guest_ takes groggy steps towards him.

Ed unties his Riddler mask and lifts his right hand out in front of Oswald. He ties it on his wrist.

"Would you pay someone to be cute?" _Someone_ has never sounded so much like _me_ before. Ed's ego always gets the best of him. He smiles cheeky and removes his hat. Places it on Oswald's head a bit aloof.

Oswald shakes his head. The hat falls off. He considers taking it off the floor and hanging it somewhere but just turns away and takes the stairs.

Ed follows of course because he is a pain like that. Leans close to Oswald, breath stinking of too sweet cocktails, and asks:

"Huh?"

Nudges his elbow in Oswald's ribs like they're teenagers talking crushes.

" _Someone_ isn't cute enough." Oswald faces him. Stares him down.

"You sure?" Ed leans even closer. Noses almost touching.

"Yes. Now if you may-"

"Because I was left with the impression you were very much preoccupied with that someone."

Edward's hands are holding the railing on each side of Oswald. And why does he have to do these stuff.

Oswald grabs him by the lapels and walks them a few steps away. Fist from the railing and then from each other.

"Your information is outdated." Oswald can't recall the last time the word _love_ fell from his lips. He bites into it. Ed's got nothing on him.

Well, except he does.

Because he is lately always there, in the flesh, when Oswald gets to stare at him. And while it's so much better than black and white pictures from _Gotham Gazette_ , it's also so much worse because he gets caught. Ed notices things he knows to look out for.

"I believe my sources are reliable." 

He is leaning, hands at Oswald's hips as if an anchor. Oswald remembers drowning.

Pushes him down the stairs.

Pays the hospital stay. Signs the plaster cast with _Property of Cobblepot_ with a green sparkling pen. Orders a fine cane to be made with the handle in the form of a question mark. Brings flowers. Gardenia jasminoides. Ivy's recommendation. She said they can mean consolation or hope but according to The Net they symbolise sweet and secret love. He suspectes she didn't make a honest mistake but the flowers are beautiful and he lets them stick around. A bit like Edward himself.

He doesn't say sorry. He didn't apologise when he killed his girlfriend. It wouldn't matter if he did now.

No actual revenge follows. Edward just knocks his glass into his hard enough for them both to break every time one of them refills for a third time. Two is okay with him. Oswald watches as pieces of broken glass fly over and cover the table. He swears he can taste them when he looks over and sees Edward's smile. _Cheers, my dearest._

A new suit awaits him in the master bedroom one evening. His tailor said it'd take another two days for it to be ready. And he doesn't let his staff in where he sleeps. The box is on the bed. When he opens it on top of the suit lays a tree leaf. Broad and fresh one. Autumn's last greens.

Oswald goes to the bathroom to wash up. When he reenters he finds Edward crossed-legged sitting on the bed. Cleanning his glasses absent-mindedly. Sharp eyes bore into him.

"Didn't you like it?"

"I ordered it." Oswald says like it's obvious. Because it is. And sometimes he really doesn't get Edward. With his half-gifts and semi-confessions.

"And I got it for you. Earlier."

"Thank you. There was no need." He forces a smile at his direction and goes to the mirror. Uties his cravat. Steals glances at Ed. The other man follows his every move and locks eyes with him a couple of times. When Oswald reaches to undo his cuffs he is on his feet and coming closer. Oswald is reminded of their time as Mayor and Cheff of Staff. He swallows tightly and tries to steer away from Edward as the other man presses to his back and takes his wrist in both hands. 

"Ed." He croaks out. A warning. Ed ignores it. Detatches the cufflink. Doesn't reach out for the other one. Oswald swears he sees him sneak it in his pocket. They are red today. It'd match with that one tiepin Ed for sure still has. He lets his head hit Oswald's shoulder. And he looks so tired. His taller frame slumped over Oswald's. Mostly hidden in the mirror's reflection. His breathing uneven against the side of Oswald's neck.

"I-I thought that was what you wanted." Memories of _that_ flood Oswald's mind. Ed was invading his space in a similar fashion, yet the atmosphere is entirely different. He rarely admits he's been mistaken.

"No."

Oswald denies him. Like he was denied time and time again. He doesn't do it out of spite or for revenge. He just knows they'll never be quite right for each other.

Ed shifts and presses a closed mouthed kiss below his jaw. Breathes out an "Okay." and moves a hand inside his jacket. Oswald should expect a gun, because Ed totally would. Would even try to shoot him a third time (try being the key word). It's a small, brown leaf. Ed places it on his shoulder, taps him on the forearm and leaves.

"Sleep well, Oswald."

"I won't."

Ed's laugh echos the hall. The leaf crumbles under Oswald's foot.

Edward tends to wander the mansion even when Oswald's not home.

Reads in the greenhouse, breaks off the smallest and prettiest flowers. Uses forget-me-nots and primroses as marks in his favourite books.

Makes tea, any and all kinds. With the exception of ginger tea with honey.

Writes his name in dust on the furniture. _Riddler_ , _Riddler_ , _The Riddler_. But then _E. Nygma_ , _Edward_ , _Ed_ start to appear over his bookshelves. One day Oswald needs a very specific thing (he has no memory what it may have been) from the upper cabinet and too prideful to ask anyone for it, he climbs a chair. Finds a _Nashton_ craved in the dust.

At first he reads it as a mockery of Olga, as a dare to wipe it all clean. If it were the case Ed would throw all kinds of interesting facts concerning dust his way. Nonchalantly. At least he'd aim for that and fail miserably. ("Approximately 75 to 90 percent of the dust in your home is dead skin cells." And "Do you know that dust contains more than 5,000 spices of bacteria?")

Then it must be a way to remind Oswald how he can overcome him, defeat him in his own home. Claim it as his own once again but show he doesn't want it and won't take it.

Time passes and he now strongly believes it's Ed's way of admitting he is still fighting himself for himself.

Oswald comes and sits with him in the greenhouse one day. Edward doesn't look up from his book, turns two, three pages before folding down a corner. Dog ear instead of a flower or a piece of paper. So he didn't even enjoy his read. Still he doesn't speak up. Oswald takes out a cigarette case and lighter out of his vest. Puts a cigarette between his lips.

Edward takes a deep breath and turns to look him in the eyes. Exhales right in his face. It curls white in the cold air.

"Do you know," Ed takes his lighter and Oswald really shoudn't let him near his face with a flame, "that a piezoelectric crystal is the heart of the gas igniter?"

Oswald simply looks at him.  _High school dropout_ is stuck behind his teeth.

"When a force is applied on it, it produces an electric spark." Ed presses the piezoelectric crystal (apparently) and lights the cigarette.

Smiles complaisantly. Oswald blows out smoke in his face.

Next time The Bat outsmarts, overpowers The Riddler Oswald arranges a two-week vacation for Edward and himself. He announces it on a meeting and surprises even himself when he doesn't shoot the gangster who whispers " _Honeymoon"_ between the eyes.

Miami is lovely in November.

("Black and blue doesn't really suit you, friend."

"Direct sunlight doesn't suit _you_ fine, Oswald."

And Ed smears sunscreen lotion on his nose.)

Ed shows up on Christmas Day (or Christmas Late Afternoon, speaking accurately) with a simple "Decided not to rob the 'charity' founds this year." Doing the air marks with gloved fingers. Then spins as to present himself. But also to get out for his coat. "And thought I could irritate you a bit instead."

Oswald hands him eggnog and somehow an hour later asks for his opinion regarding Martin's present. Like he knows a thing about teenagers. He is utterly unhelpful.

("A vinyl player!"

"No, Ed."

"What? I begged my parents for one when I was his age."

"He doesn't even have vinyls."

"Can't you buy him some. Okay, whatever. What about a book with riddles?"

"Tell me, have you seen anyone receive a riddle book and be _genuinely_ happy?"

"Well, no- but! Once an admirer of mine-"

"What? Oh, yeah, you _sure_ have a lot of fans."

"She was real! And obsessed with me. She had all these newspaper-clipping collages."

"Uh-huh."

"Anyway, ' _War and Peace'_ hardcover is a lame present."

"Fuck off.")

And why is Edward allowed to know about Martin is a mystery unsolved (an _enigma_ if you'd like). It feels right in a way.

Later they sit on the couch in front of the fireplace. Ed rambles about the decreasing numbers of affordable henchmen for hire as Oswald reflects on his former self bitterly. The selfish brat had more of Ed than he could ever deserve to have and yet he wanted more and more.

Edward places a warm hand on his knee and asks _Are you listening, Oswald?_ And of course he is.

After a few more eggnog glasses Ed tells him briefly about his horrible and not-so-unbearable past Christmases.

And even _laterer_ with blankets draped over their shoulders they sit by the fireplace itself. The fire has gone out. Oswald's cranky when he's cold.

"How come the genius that the Riddler is, can't keep a fire burning one entire night?" He sounds more pissed than he is but that's what he is aiming for anyway. 

"How come you have survived all of Olga's days off so far?" Edward retorts and pushes the logs around with the poker. They aren't burning.

"Or do you know I actually survived? I may be, um, a ghost for all you know?"

And that's perhaps too close to home. Why did he have to ruin the night? He feels the "I knew I should have never told you about that." on Edward's tongue before he hears him mutter it. 

His breath is knocked out of him as he lands, back on the carpet, Ed in his face. All top hat jokes flow out the window. 

"Ghosts. Aren't real," he says in two breaths, his mouth twists the _ghosts_ into something vile, adds in a third, softer: "and you can't touch them." His fingers tighten around Oswald's wrists, pinning them into the carpet.

His face is close for a second longer as if his stare would convince Oswald more than his words. Neither does. Ghosts are real. Ed's demons twice as much. 

He collapses on top of him, face in collarbone. Breathes in anger and sorrow. Breathes out something like remorse and forgiveness.

"I'm sorry." Oswald whispers and rises a tentative hand to Edward's shoulder. He's unmoving. Adjusts his hand untill it's burried in Ed's hair and the other man shifts. Probably to get up and away but halfway through it he falls once more on top of Oswald.

And there goes his breath again. _Damnit Edward_. This time Oswald's face is pressed in his chest, while he lays on him, face in his hair.

Oswald tries to shove him off and gets two huffs of laugh straight in his ear.

He _knows_ this isn't much more comfortable for Edward. But the bastard would bear a lot if it meant Oswald suffering through it, too. (Example A: Court of Owls cages. Example B: their whole relationship these days.)

"What's the point of that?"

"Oh, of that?" And Edward shifts his legs to the side. Oswald just now realizes Ed hasn't been putting any of his weight on his damaged knee. "Well, to make sure you're real and to get a bit warmer, you know." And he shivers on purpose, which almost makes Oswald shiver for real.

"Ugh, Ed, I'm very much real and I'd offer you a real source of warmth if you'd just get off me!"

"You think you'd get off the hook that easy?"

"Yes."

"Go ahead and try."

Oswald's good knee connects with Ed's stomach.

They sit once again on the couch, electronic heating at their feet, eggnog glasses in their hands. Shoulders brushing.

Well, untill Edward finishes his drink and steals Oswald's because he is too lazy to get up. His fingers are warm where they touch Oswald's.

"What, weren't you quitting drinking anyway?"

"No." As he gets to get up Ed curls his fingers arond his wrist and half-laughs his name. In a  _don't be ridiculous_ tone.

"Would you fancy some tea?"

Ed jumps to his feet as well and walks ahead of him to the kitchen.

"Yes. Mint, if you've got." Oswald doesn't like mint tea so he shouldn't have any. But he does. 

While he makes it, Edward sits on the kitchen counter, his too long legs are swinging, barely above the ground. 

Ed blows at his steamy cup and takes a sip. Smirks down at Oswald and says with a wink: "Hot!"

Oswald feels heat rise up his neck and face. He rolls his eyes at the ceiling.

Edward takes another sip, places the cup on the counter and hops down right in front of him.

"Don't believe me?" He overdramatizes his offence, hand over his heart, breathes out a "see" as it comes to move Oswald's chin up. Holds it into place. Oswald is frozen.

And licks a short strape on his neck. Slowly. It is hot Oswald would give him that.

"Hot beverages make your tongue warm, Ed! This shouldn't come as a surprise to you." Oswald kicks him away and Edward is smiling too wide.

"Your reaction was the surprise." Small laugh escapes him but he turns back to his cup of tea nonchalantly. "You just made my night."

"Glad I didn't disappoint."

"You never do."

He makes the mansion's fire sprinklers go off exactly at 11:57 pm on New Year's Eve. Successfully banishing all of Oswald's guests to run out of the house and onto the front yard.

Edward walks in like he owns the place. His suit, obscure green, is not devastated. Unlike Oswald's. He gets his jacket off and away. It hangs on one of the wooden chairs, dripping on the floor. Setting into motion its annihilation, too.

Oswald's staff run around him and Edward with towels, blankets and champagne glasses to the front of the house to offer to the dozens of people outside.

"Turn the TV on, Ozzie. I have a surprise for you." 

Oswald throws a vase at him. He hides behind the coat rack.

"You weren't invited!" Oswald hisses. Yells. And he wasn't because he's a criminal while Oswald is a very legitimate businessman. But his liking of chaos would serve as a reason number 2 now.

Gets his _wet ruined_ hair out of his eyes and throws an empty champagne glass next. Or was it empty? Doesn't matter. Everything is wet anyway.

"Oh, but you got me out of Arkham just in time for the party." Ed shouts from behind a cupboard.

"I spare you from the looney bin and you crash my plans, typical you!" Oswald spits out and throws a plate as he would a freebie.

Edward ducks down and looks at his watch.

"No, I planned a grandiose thank you! C'moon. We'll miss it!"

He walks in the open towards Oswald as the later looks around for objects to launch his way. The waiters have taken everything. Ed is in front of him in a second, babbling, grabbing his arm with one hand and the remote with the other. 

"City Hall is blowing up in less than a minute. And I added potassium sulfate and potassium nitrate in the mix just for you."

"I don't even know what that means!"

"Which part?"

"Take a guess."

"It means that." Ed takes a hold of his shoulders and turns him around to the TV.

It showed City Hall exploding. (Oswald could imagine the gasps of half his guests.) Only it was a purple explosion. Violet flames licking up the building. It was beautiful. Thoughtfull. Unnecessary.

"I appreciate the gesture." He turns back to face Ed once again. Whose hands return on Oswald's shoulders as he nods, a big stupid smile on his face. They simply stare at one another untill the countdown begin. Ed removes his hands and waves them in the air in front of Oswald. Ten spread out fingers. Pulling one down for each second. 

With the last one he taps Oswald on the tip of the nose.

"Happy New Year, Oswald."

Cheerful cries can be overheard from the crowd outside.

"Happy New Year, Ed."

Fireworks. 

"That kind of was your cue to kiss me." 

"You know, I never got the whole New Year kiss thing."

"It's a long held tradition that could be traced back to ancient Rome and the Festival of Sat-"

Oswald grabs him by the _dry, not dripping_ lapels and brings him to his level. If anything kissing turns out to be a fine way to shut him up. He takes advantage of that throughout the night.

Next morning he finds Ed sleeping on the couch under at least 2 blankets. His glasses are hanging very low on his nose and Oswald reaches out and takes them. A hand sticks out from under the blankets and tries to get them back.

"Trying to get me half-blind and vulnerable?" Ed's voice is gruff with sleep. He rubs his eyes and takes the glasses from Oswald's now offering hand. He thinks he leaves a smudged fingerprint on one of the lens.

"Not really." Fails to sustain a yawn. Notices a green suit jacket, trousers and shirt over the back of a chair. "What are you wearing?"

"Black briefs, you?" Ed moves to sit up and wiggles his brows suggestively. Oswald scoffs. Ed gets off the couch all together and starts stretching. 

"Is that a towel gown?"

"I got cold."

Oswald sometimes wonders whether Ed listens to himself talk.

"Why didn't you take some of my pyjamas?" Fate has offered Oswald a chance to return an old favour and he has overlooked it. He hadn't removed bullets from Edward yet anyway. He hopes he never would. "You just got too lazy to shower, didn't you."

" _No_. And they were going to be too short on me." And he lifts a leg to show that the gown doesn't reach below his calf. He had slept with sock garters on and Oswald can't help but smile as he imagines the red marks they'd leave.

"Okay, since this is so much better." He raises his hands in defence and looks away as Ed unties the towel, then wraps it tighter around himself, ties it and heads towards the kitchen.

"And these are dark gray."

"Huh?"

"Your boxer briefs. Aren't black."

"I said it because it sounded hotter."

"It didn't."

"Where's everyone?"

"Day off."

"Oh. Do you still remember what it's like to cook for yourself?"

"No, but you're here so-"

"No way I'm making breakfast."

"You kind of own me for crashing my party."

"Like you were having fun... But okay."

Ed cooks pancakes. Oswald covers him in flour.

"By the way, I'm robbing the Art Gallery next week, do you want anything specific or shall I surprise you?" Ed asks him with blueberry sauce on the corner of his mouth. Oswald wipes it with his thumb. Licks it off of it.

And realises they've been colliding for a quite some time now.

**Author's Note:**

> The flowers Ed uses as book marks, forget-me-nots and primroses, mean true love and eternal love (at least according to the Net). Only after writing these scenes I found out that mint is a symbol of protection of illness and warm feelings and can also symbolize fidelity, virtue, and precious moments. (I admit I only choose it because it's green and I love mint tea). Dead leaves symbolize sadness.


End file.
